


The Truth Will Set You Free

by SHARKMARTINI



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Claustrophobia, M/M, Prompt Fill, SnowBaz, True Love, eighth year au, hair washing (lol), hand holding, i guess this is hurt/comfort, trope bingo, truth spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: Baz is no damsel in distress. He reluctantly accepts a hero when one comes along anyway.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1125





	The Truth Will Set You Free

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://carryonprompts.tumblr.com/post/188371649454/simonbaz-au-handcuffs-might-not-be-adult-but) prompt from [Carry On Prompts](https://carryonprompts.tumblr.com/):  
Instead of a numpty coffin, the Mage stashes Baz in the catacombs. Simon finds him really quickly and has to work out what to do with him.
> 
> This was written quick and dirty, so it's a little rough. Could be worse though. Also, I know there is already a fic with this same title. Please forgive me, but there are only so many truth/freedom related idioms in the English language.
> 
> UPDATE: The endlessly talented and amazing [vkelleyart](https://vkelleyart.tumblr.com/) honoured me and this fic by drawing a gorgeous piece for it, which you can see [here](https://vkelleyart.tumblr.com/post/189640014437/fanon-pic-again-when-the-lovely-and-talented). Honestly it's so beautiful and my life is a thousand times better now that is exists. I'm so thankful.

**SIMON**

I never imagined that Baz might be… _dead_. 

Missing, injured, sick- fine. But he can't actually be dead.

When he misses midterms I start panicking. (More than I was already, that is.)

It's not a good sign. Baz _would _rather be dead than fail the semester. Something must be really, really wrong.

I decide at breakfast to go down to the catacombs, because it's the only place around the school I haven't been absolutely certain I fully searched.

It seems darker than usual, the light from my wand barely penetrating the darkness. It would be very easy to get lost down here. I think this to myself right before I realize- I'm lost. I wander around, trying to find my way back, but I only succeed in getting more lost.

It's just as I consider using a tracking spell on Penny (who is probably holed up in the library) that I see it. A narrow wooden door, the wood so rotten it looks exactly like the dirt all around it, tucked into the jagged wall of one of the tunnels.

I've never seen this door before.

I approach it cautiously.

"**Open Sesame!**" The door doesn't unlock or open. It doesn't even move.

I think about going to get Penny, but I'm not certain I could find my way back down here, even with her help.

I summon the Sword of Mages instead and hack away at the hinges until the rotted wood gives away and I can push the door out of the way entirely.

It's even darker beyond this door. The air feels stale and empty. And it's about fifteen degrees colder than the rest of the catacombs, which are already fucking freezing. (Usually this is a boon for me when I come down here to follow Baz. I'm always running hot so getting to spend time in the catacombs is almost pleasant, temperature wise. But as I step across the threshold into the smaller, colder tunnel I can actually see my breath and wonder if this is how Baz feels all the time.)

I take a couple of steps until I realize that it's so dark in here I can't see my hand, even when I hold it right in front of my face.

"**Let there be light!**"

Nothing happens.

"**Got a light?**"

Nothing. I smack my wand against my leg a couple of times, and try again. "**Light my fire!**"

I stare straight ahead into the darkness. I want to keep going, but I won't hardly be useful if my magic isn't working and I can't see beyond my own bloody nose.

I step back out of the tunnel. "Fuck!"

I look down at my wand. It looks fine. I can feel the pulse of my magic under my skin. Nothing on my end _feels _wrong.

"**Some like it hot**!" I point at my feet, and curl them in delight as a shot of warmth travels up my legs.

Huh.

I step back through the doorway and try again. "**Some like it hot!**"

Nothing.

Right then.

I step back into the main tunnel and chew on the inside of my mouth for a moment. (I wish I'd brought something to eat with me.)

I think about how Penny would organize her thoughts and start there.

WHAT I KNOW

  1. There is a magickless tunnel under my magickal school.
  2. Baz has been missing for eight weeks.
  3. His family has been searching for him for months. If he was anywhere other than the school they'd have found him by now.

WHAT I DON'T KNOW

  1. Where this tunnel leads.
  2. Where Baz is.
  3. If Baz is even dead or alive.
  4. That this tunnel existed. Meaning I haven't finished searching the catacombs yet.

That decides it for me.

I pull my shirt off (I know I'm going to regret it later) and wrap it around the point of the sword. "**Light my fire!**"

Then I step into the cold, dark tunnel once more.

The tunnel is still freezing, and now I can see my breath as I walk along it slowly. Slowly, because it keeps getting narrower and narrower and I don't want to fall and put my torch out, but also because I recognize that a magickless tunnel locked behind a magic-proof door probably isn't open to the public. Whatever is at the end of this tunnel is not something I'm supposed to find.

I have no idea how much time has passed as I continue to follow the tunnel deeper and deeper into the catacombs. I need to stoop, and then eventually crawl as it continues to narrow. It gets so tight in some places that I need to use my elbows to drag myself forward through the dirt, and claw into the ground for those extra inches where I _just _don't fit. (Honestly, the whole thing is an exercise in self-reflection. As I'm trying and failing to maneuver my hips through one of the tight spaces, I wonder to myself if I really _need _to have scones with breakfast and at tea. Maybe I could cut down to once a day? Starting next week of course.)

The tunnel tilts and I keep dragging myself along. I don’t even dare think of what I'm going to do if this leads to a dead end- there's absolutely no way for me to turn around. I'd have to make the whole trip backwards (and up an incline now too).

Just when I'm convinced that I should stop and start backing up the tunnel opens into a small crawlspace.

My head still brushes the ceiling, but it feels far less claustrophobic, thank Merlin.

There's another door. Silver now, tarnished but still shining faintly in the light from my torch. I want to hack at the hinges the way I earlier, but I don't want to lose my only source of light. I run my hand along the door. It's smooth, and cold. I stick my finger in the key hole and sigh. I'm going to need to come back.

I turn around, ready to start crawling back when I see something shiny out of the corner of my eye.

It's a keyring, with heavy, tarnished silver keys.

I pick it up. It's ridiculously heavy, which makes sense considering there are about thirty keys hanging from the hook. One of them is embossed with a cross.

I take the key ring to the door immediately, shoving that key into the lock.

It clicks.

I readjust my grip on the sword and open the door. The hinges creak ominously.

At first, I'm convinced I've found Baz's secret hideout, that he's been hiding here from us the whole time while plotting to take me down.

The room is small, barely bigger than the ancient looking four poster bed. There's a small stool with a basin on it, and a cup with a bendy straw in it. There's a dirty little woodstove in the corner, overflowing with ashes. Everything is grey, and it smells like damp.

Then- I see a leg sticking out from the place between the bed and the wall opposite. I recognize the shoe, although I've never seen it so dirty and scruffy before.

"Baz!" My voice is too loud for so small a room, but I'm rushing to him, knocking my knee on the metal of the stove as I toss the sword into the grate before falling to his side.

He's never looked worse.

"Baz," I say, quieter this time as I pull him into my lap and brush his hair out of his face. It's greasy, and his face has dirt smeared on his cheeks. He cracks open an eye.

"Simon?" he asks, voice cracking. His lips are chapped.

(He's cold, so cold. I never thought that another person could be alive and be so cold.)

"Fuck, Baz." My voice wavers. "What-?" and then he winces as I try to pull him closer and I hear the scrape of metal on wood. "What the actual fuck."

The chains look old and heavy. I can see a welts on Baz's wrists as though he's been trying to pull himself free of them. There's not enough slack for him to lay down on the floor, so he's been dangling at an odd angle.

"Can you get up?" I whisper to him.

"No- my leg. Something happened to it and I can't-"

I pick him up and settle him on the bed. It’s not that difficult, but he is heavier than I was expecting. Then I run my hand down his trouser leg, but there isn't any obvious injury. He hisses a little when I poke at his ankle.

"Right," I say looking around the room.

"Simon," he says as I get up, and I reach out and squeeze one of his manacled hands.

"I'm not leaving you," I tell him and I'm not surprised to find that it's true. Instead I kneel down in front of the grate, where my shirt is still burning. "**Light my fire!**" Nothing happens, so magic still isn't an option. I look around the room. Baz winces at the sound when I start snapping the legs off the stool, and I throw a couple into the grate. I hiss as I pull the hot sword out, and I lay it on the ground. I'm going to need it later. Then I grab the key ring and close the door. Hopefully that will keep the heat in- and whoever is responsible for this _out. _

I look at Baz over on the bed. He's got his eyes closed again. He looks- well he looks more than halfway dead doesn't he? (He's so pale, paler than I've ever seen him.) Has he really been down here for eight whole weeks? I look over at the basin, smell it- it's just water. I slide it next to the fire to heat it up. I try the handle of the sword again gingerly and wince. Still too hot.

I get back on the bed.

His eyes are still closed but he winces when I get close. I'm about to ask if anything else hurts when I remember. My cross. I rip it off and throw it away. I don't care anymore, not when Baz is here, alive. (Oh Merlin, he's alive. Hurt, yes, but not dead.)

"Come here," I tell him as I slide closer. I know he can't, not with those chains, but I want him to feel like he's the one making the choice. I expect him to fight me, but he leans towards me in a way I know means 'okay.' I pull him into my lap and run my arms over his back. He's so cold, colder than death.

He tucks his face into my chest and makes a soft sound I never knew he was capable of making. I run my hand through his greasy hair as we sit like that.

"Who did this?" I ask.

"Who do you think?" It's muffled, and I can feel his chapped lips moving against my skin.

"Surely you're not saying-"

"Of course it was the Mage. Who else has it out for my family? Who else has been trying to ruin us since he came to power?" He sounds a little more like his usual self, which is reassuring- even if he _is_ accusing the Mage of kidnapping and imprisonment.

"What happened?" I rub my thumb in slow circles on the back of his neck, trying to help him relax.

"I don't know. I was leaving the club, and someone put a bag over my head. I don’t know what happened next, and when I woke up, I was here."

"So you didn't see him-"

"I don't need to have seen him to know it was him."

"Okay," I say, mostly because I don't want to keep fighting. But I know the Mage, he's practically raised me. He wouldn't ever do something like this- keep someone captive. Not even someone like Baz.

_Baz_.

"Are you thirsty?" I ask him instead, looking over at the cup with the bendy straw. I pause.

It's blood.

Well, I already knew Baz was a vampire (I was right! I knew it, I knew it. I told _everyone_ and no one would believe me. I'm not an idiot- I've always had more evidence than the way he looks- and now I know it, and he knows I know it-)

He's looking at me look at the cup. I lean over, stretching a little but this room is so small I can reach it without getting up. Then I bring the straw to his lips.

He closes his eyes and drinks deeply. I watch to see if some of the colour comes back to his cheeks, but he looks pretty much the same.

"Come on," I say, tugging him towards the edge of the bed when he's done. I get up and fill the empty cup with some of the water, then I take the warm basin and bring it to the edge of the bed. Baz watches me as I tug one of the pillow cases off the pillow (it's kind of dirty, but I doubt I could find anything cleaner in here. My shirt would have worked well, but it's still smouldering over in the grate.) I wet it and hand it to him. He's weak but he manages to lift it to his face. I get off the bed to give him some privacy and sit on the floor.

"Lean your head over the side," I tell him, grabbing the cup and moving the basin. He must be well and truly knackered, because he does it without arguing. The sound he makes when I tip the warm water over his head is indecent, and I try not to let myself enjoy it while I run my fingers through his wet hair.

We're silent as we work, and it's better that way. It's well gay to wash your archnemesis up after finding him imprisoned in a dirty cell- I'm not really sure what we _could _say to each other right now.

(But I couldn't leave him like that. Baz is a bully, and a pain in my arse, but he's also fastidious and proud. I'm sure me finding him here in this state ranks just about as bad to him as being here in the first place. Besides, I can't get him out of here until my fucking sword doesn’t burn my hand off.)

I take the pillow case and run it over his hair so it won't drip on him too much. When I get back on the bed he looks- almost normal. Dingier, yeah. Paler than usual, and thinner too. (There's no food in here. Has he been _starving_?)

"Why are you helping me?" he wastes no time asking. "You hate me."

"Uh," I rub the back of my neck. "You're the one who's always being a dick. Besides, it's awful to imprison and chain someone up. I'd help anyone in your situation."

"Ever the hero," he sneers at me, but it doesn't have his usual bite.

I ignore him and look at the headboard of the bed. The wood is thick, and surprisingly sturdy for something that's been down here for Merlin knows how long. The chains themselves are too thick to be able to cut with the sword, so I'm going to have to hack away at the wood.

I get back off the bed and try the hilt of the sword again. This time it's cool enough for me to pick up.

Good.

Baz flinches as I get near him and scoots as far away from the headboard as he can. It's not actually that far, someone must have been coming down to feed him the blood, because there's no way he'd be able to do it on his own while restrained.

I feel anger, hot and bitter swell up in my throat. Someone put him here, yes. But then someone has been here since, has seen him chained up, alone in the dark- and just _left _him like that.

I'm going to skin them alive.

I swing the sword as hard as I can. Baz makes a face at the thud of the sword, and I need to use all my strength to wrench it free again. I swing again, and again. I can feel the muscles in my arms and shoulders protesting, but I can't stop now. Not when Baz isn't free yet.

Finally I cut through, and I can take a minute to catch my breath and wipe the sweat from my face. Then I'm grabbing at the wood where it's split- pulling it apart until the chain linking the cuffs can slide free.

"Fuck, Snow."

Baz groans as he gets up, stretching his back and I get off the bed and crowd him towards the dying fire.

(He's a little unsteady on his feet. He's his usual stubborn self too, because he wastes no time in baring his teeth at me- all of them- when he feels my hands on the small of his back and elbow. He'd keel right over without the support, _anyone _would if they'd been starved and chained up for two months.)

He lets out a sigh as he sits close to the fire, and I throw the last of the stool in. Then I unlace my shoes in record time, then his, before taking my stockings off. (They've got doughnuts on them, a Christmas gift last year from Penny. She said they didn't make any with scones, but I like doughnuts as well so in all it was a good choice.) I fumble a little, sliding them onto his feet.

He watches me without saying anything. I wonder what he's thinking.

"Snow," he starts, stretching his arms and moving closer to the hearth, "where the fuck is your shirt?"

\-----

The fire is about to die.

I guess we could start hacking the rest of the bed up and throwing it in, but there doesn't seem to be a point. We need to get Baz out of here.

He's been warming himself up, and his hands aren't as cold as they were when I found him. (We've been holding hands as we stare into the fire. I'm not sure why. At first it was because I wanted to examine the cuffs of the manacles, and then because I wanted to make sure he was actually warming up. And now- now it's because I don't want to let go. Not after I've finally found him again.)

"Okay," he says, moving back a little from the fire, "let's go."

I'm not ready to let go yet.

"The tunnel is cold, colder than the catacombs usually are. And it's small, I had to crawl through some of it."

He swallows, but nods.

I take a deep breath.

"I don't- I don't think we should use the sword as a torch this time. Like I did on the way down. It gets pretty cramped in there and I don't want to risk-"

I don't want to set him on fire by accident. Not after all this. As it is, I've been eyeing him closely- he's sat much too close to the fire for comfort, but he's also probably hypothermic. I know he needs it, but it makes me git my teeth all the same.

He closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose.

"Fine."

It's not fine. He's been here in the dark for weeks. And now not only am I telling him I'm dragging him back there, but that he's also going to be squished and confined in it.

And freezing too.

"I'll be right there the whole time. I'll go first with the sword, just in case…" I can't finish. _Just in case your captor comes back, and I need to eviscerate them. Then kill them_. "I'll be right there." I squeeze his hand.

He opens his eyes.

"Snow," he says, leaning towards me. My heartrate doubles instantly. It makes me dizzy. Before I can process anything, he shakes his head instead and pulls his hand from mine.

He starts to take my stockings off.

"Keep them," I tell him as I replace my own shoes, "you'll need them more than I do."

When we step out of the room the change in temperature is instantaneous. I grab Baz's hand as I shut the door behind us and immediately we are plunged in darkness. I can hear the sound of his breathing, heavier than normal. I give his hand a squeeze as I use my free hand to feel for the embossed cross on the keys. It takes a minute, but I find it. It's more work to finagle it into the lock with only one hand but I manage. Then I pull Baz over to the wall of the antechamber and together we use our hands until we find the hook and leave the keys where I found them.

I use my hand to guide us until I find the mouth of the tunnel. It's even smaller than I remember.

"Baz." I'm whispering, and I don't know why. "I'm going to let go now, I have to crawl to get through. I'll be right ahead of you. I won't be able to turn around or to see you, so you'll have to tell me what you need, okay?"

Silence.

"Baz?"

"Yes," he says, sounding a little choked. I don't mention it.

He hands me the sword, hitting me the in leg with it before I realize what's happening. (Luckily it was with the blunt edge. I don't even want to imagine being stuck in a dark, confined space with a thirsty, strung out Baz- at least not while _bleeding_.)

I squeeze his hand one more time before letting go, and ducking into the tunnel.

I use my elbows to drag myself along a bit further before stopping. I only start up again when I hear him moving behind me, the sound of the chain clinking as he moves. It's tough work, crawling uphill, and it isn't long until I've worked up a cold sweat. Every part of me feels wrung out and pinched- I don't even dare think about how Baz is feeling.

I don't know how long we've been going for, just that it feels like forever. The tunnel feels even longer than before, and more airless, the walls closing in around us.

It takes me a moment to notice that the sound of the chains has stopped behind me.

I squint over my shoulder into the darkness behind me at once.

"Baz?"

I can hear his breathing, quick and shallow. Fuck.

"Baz," I want to turn around, but there isn't really enough space.

I feel his cold hand as he grips my ankle. The chain from the cuffs rubs against the bare skin between my trouser leg and shoe, and I wince.

"Come here," I tell him, but he's already scrambling up my leg (he's _climbing_ me), until I feel the wet huffing of his breath on my neck. "It's alright, it's alright." I tell him, struggling to get my hands where I want them so I can run them through his hair. "It's a squeeze, but it'll be over soon."

We're pressed so close there isn't a spare inch of space between us. There really isn't enough room for us front to front like this. If he hadn't lost so much weight, I'm not even sure whether we would have fit at all.

He's shaking, and I can feel it everywhere we're touching. (There isn't anywhere we _aren't _touching. We're pressed together from shins to chest, and even then his face is pressed tightly to my neck.) I move my hands down to rub his back. He's still cold (_so _cold) but I feel him warm up a little as he relaxes into my arms. "Shhh," I soothe him, "I've got you. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

"Simon," he whispers, and I squint into the dark. Knowing he's so close but not being able to see him is torture- and then I feel his cool breath on my cheek. I don't close my eyes when he finally kisses me, but it's just as dark as if I had anyway.

Even the inside of his mouth is cold. (That's okay, I can warm him up from the inside now too.)

The air between us warms up as we press even closer together and kiss. Kissing Baz is nothing like kissing Agatha ever was- there is nothing passive about him at all. In fact, kissing Baz is not actually that different than fighting with him. I have my hands all over him, his back, running through his hair, on the base of his throat. It's not enough.

It'll never be enough.

I fumble in the dark until my fingers close around cold metal and I yank his hands up between us, pressed between our chests. I pull away from his mouth (regretfully. And with every intention of coming back) and hold his hands between mine, lifting them to my mouth and blowing on them. I'm freezing, but I'm still warmer than him and it does the trick. I hear the softest sigh from him, and then I can’t stay away any longer.

This time I kiss him first.

He struggles for a moment, but doesn't let me pull away. Then I hiss as his cold hands find their way down the sides of my trousers, cuffs chafing sensitive skin. He pauses, like he wasn't expecting it. It's not like him to second guess himself, so I don't let him.

His cold hands alternate between gripping as hard as they can (he's definitely tapping into his super strength) and touching me with barely there pressure.

I wish I knew what he wants.

(I know what I want. I want him here, safe, with me. Not chained up and locked away, not off plotting and scheming- but here, under my hands, where I always know where he is- what he's doing, that he's _safe-_)

I feel something wet on my cheek and realize he's crying. I pull away to kiss what I think are his cheeks, licking away the salt of his tears. All the while he's gripping me tight, murmuring nonsense in a way I've never heard from him.

"You found me. I thought that was it, that I'd be there forever and I'd never get to see-"

It must be contagious, because I don't even let him finish before I'm interrupting, "Of course I found you, I'll always find you. I was going spare without you, didn't know where you were or what you were doing-"

I kiss my way down his neck feverishly, slotting one of my legs between his and pressing him into the dirt of the tunnel. "Never going to lose track of you again," I promise his clavicle fiercely.

"Simon-"

"Yeah, come on, yeah."

It's a frantic chase from there, pressed together in the dark and breathing each other's air. I touch everything, anything I can get my hands on, as we fumble and push aside clothing in the dark. It's still not enough. It isn't even enough as we lay there afterwards, trying to catch our breaths. I know every single part of him, and I still need more.

It's slow work getting back on track, but we manage. Somehow I end up with the sword back in my hand as we continue our slow upwards trek back towards the surface. The tunnel doesn't feel so cold anymore.

Finally the relentless crush of the dirt ceiling seems to lessen, until we can push up onto our knees, and then finally I groan as I stretch myself back up to full height. I reach back and pull him up beside me. I want to pull him the rest of the way into me (until we're pressed together again) but I want to get him back to our room where it's safe even more.

I don't let go of his hand.

We're silent as we find the end of the tunnel and finally emerge deep in the catacombs. "**Let there be light!**" He squints, frowning as I finally get a good look at him. He's dirtier now than he was before the tunnel, but I'm willing to bet I look much the same. His clothing is rumpled, wrinkled, and I hope for his own sake that he never gets to see what his hair looks like right now.

But he's here. Alive.

"**Get well soon**," I whisper anyway, before he bats me away.

"Enough, Snow. I just need a shower. And some proper rest. You don't need to keep treating me like some damsel in distress. I don't need a hero."

I'll admit, it hurts a little. I ignore the sting of his words and focus on the manacles instead.

"**Free as a bird!**" They don't move. "**Free at last!**" Baz sneers and grabs my wand.

"**Get out of jail free!**" Still nothing, although now he looks surprised at least.

"Shall we try _give me freedom or give me death?_" I ask, trying to lighten the mood. He just scowls and hands me my wand back.

I hear something scurry by. Probably a rat.

"D'you?" I gesture towards the darkness. I don't know how to bring it up, and I don't know what the right words are. _Feed_? _Drink_?

He shakes his head.

I let him lead the way back out of the catacombs because I’m still lost. I'm expecting it to be around dinner time by the time we make it back to the surface- but it's the middle of the night by the looks of it. I follow him up to our room.

He makes a beeline for the ensuite the moment we're inside.

I stand around the room uselessly for a bit before deciding to go downstairs to the kitchens. I'm so distracted I scarcely remember to grab a shirt before I go.

(I set no fewer than three wards on the door before I leave. I just finished getting him back- I can't risk having someone come try and take him _again._ Especially not after I've missed two full meals and my afternoon nap.)

In a moment of genius, I find a carton of pork blood in the fridge probably meant for tomorrow morning's black pudding. (Sorry cook Pritchard.)

I bring a platter of sandwiches and the blood back to our room, and I only eat two sandwiches on the way there. Baz is in his pyjamas, looking through my notes as if he's worried about what he's missed. (The swot. He's still going to be first in the class. He's so far ahead of the rest of us he could probably test out for the year end exams if he wanted.)

I leave the blood and the rest of the sandwiches on his desk, and then decide to take a shower to give him some privacy. (Well- for that reason but also because I do need a proper wash now. I'm muddy, and _sticky_ and I have no idea what to say to him now.)

When I get out he's sitting on his bed, holding my wand. (The rest of the sandwiches and the carton of blood are gone though, so I count it as a win.)

"Where's yours?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I don't know. I might have lost it when I was grabbed."

"Okay, we'll go looking for it tomorrow." He nods, then looks down at his wrists. The cuffs are still there.

He sighs and hands me my wand.

"Do you think you can manage?" he asks, and I frown, not quite understanding. He clears his throat. "_The truth will set you free._"

I can, actually. It's an eighth year spell (and a tricky one at that) but Penny had taught me after all that trouble we had to go through with the selkies. It's a powerful spell, but you can't cast it on yourself. It requires a caster, and payment of a truth in exchange for freedom. The stronger the bonds, or spell, or lock, the bigger the truth needs to be. (This was the hardest part for me to grasp. I remember 'I'm more excited to see sour cherry scones than I am to see Agatha' got Penny fuming. 'Just because it's the truth doesn't mean it's good enough!' she scolded me, right there as we were bobbing in the middle of the frozen lake. 'It has to be something _meaningful. _Something that torments you- something that stops you from being at peace with yourself! _I _could have told you you're more interested in baked goods than your girlfriend. Now try again.')

(I had succeeded. Eventually. Afterwards I made Penny promise to never bring it up again. I don't like to think about that conversation, and I've mostly succeeded in putting it out of my mind. Except for times like now. Like when I'm standing right in front of him.)

(I won't get into specifics, but it was about the way Baz smells after a shower.)

I point my wand at him.

"**The truth will set you free!**"

He looks pained. I can relate, I hate being spelled by others too.

"I'm grateful for your help." he spits it out like it's hurtful for him to even say. The cuffs stay on. I shake my head.

"Even I could have told you that wouldn't be enough," I tell him, "try again."

"I- I thought of you while I was missing. Often." This surprises me a little (maybe less than it might have a couple of hours ago) but the cuffs aren't affected.

"I'm desperately attracted to you." Now this would be a flattering statement if he didn't say it miserably, staring at his stockinged feet like he's just admitted to some kind of war crime.

I tap my foot against the hardwood.

"I-," he stops and takes a deep breath and tries again. "I-"

Then he shakes his head and puts it in his shackled hands.

"Baz," I kneel in front of him on the floor, "Baz. It's fine, whatever it is-"

He shakes his head again.

I climb onto the bed with him. Slowly, so he has the chance to push me off if he wants. He doesn't.

I'm not as quick as him or Penny, but I _do _usually catch up- eventually anyway. I'm not so thick that I didn't notice that everything he's been saying has been kind of about the same theme. This might have freaked me out before all this, but now…

I push his hair off his face. He hasn't slicked it back yet, and I'm reminded by how much better it looks when it's loose. "I thought about you while you were missing too," I say, "and I'm also attracted to you." While this isn't something new (for me, anyway), it _is _new to say it out loud.

He lets me tilt his face up.

Then I finally let myself kiss him like I've been wanting to.

It's just as good as it was the first time. (Maybe even better, because now neither of us are about to freeze to death or feel like we're going to be crushed by the walls of a dark tunnel.)

Instead all I feel is the warmth of the room around us, the softness of his skin, the yield of the mattress as I push him backwards into his pillows…

(I want him. Again. Underneath me, warm and comfortable. I want to feel him under my hands, hear him, taste him, _smell _him, so I know without a doubt that he's here, with me. Safe. Mine.)

He's stalling. Sucking on my tongue instead of telling me the truth. That's okay, I'm used to his plans foiling mine. I take his hands in mine and slowly press them to the pillows above his head.

Then I loop the chain around the bedpost and push the slack down into the mattress, holding it there.

(I don't know, it had seemed like such a good idea a moment ago.)

"Snow," he growls, and while the sound is familiar, the shiver that travels down my spine is entirely new.

"You said you didn't need a hero," I tell him, leaving open mouthed kisses down the side of his neck. "Prove it- set yourself free."

"It's not that simple," he tells me, but pushes his hips against me anyway.

"Probably not," I agree, "but it's also not as bad as you think it'll be." I pull back and move my hands down the chains until I'm gripping him by the wrists instead. "Here, I'll start."

I gather all my courage.

"Baz," I tell him, leaning over and kissing the side of his jaw, "I'm obsessed with you."

"Snow-"

"Simon," I correct him.

"Simon. I've known that for years," he huffs out, but he's grinning ever so slightly.

"Okay. Well, I fancy you." His eyes widen a little, which is ridiculous because while he might not have known before today, we're literally pressed together on his bed. (Barely four hours ago we'd been even closer, his hands in my trousers and mine anywhere I could reach. Baz might be top of our class but he's still plenty thick if he hasn't worked this out yet.)

He looks like he wants to kiss me again (_I _want to kiss _him_) but instead he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I love you. Simon, I'm in love with you."

The manacles heat up for a second, then disappear. I waste no time in dropping to my side, pulling his arms towards me and kissing at the welts on his wrists. His eyes are still closed, like he's afraid to open them.

"Teach me," I ask him. "I don't- I don't know how." And that's my truth right there, my shot at freedom. "But I could learn."

He finally opens his eyes, and it's almost too much to meet his gaze.

I didn't know how to speak properly until someone taught me- and now I use my words every day. I might not know how to love someone, but I doubt Baz will be anything but an excellent teacher.

"Tomorrow," he tells me, cupping my face in his hands. "We'll start tomorrow."

I nod, and lean back down into him. I haven't felt so light since he went missing. I know there's still so much left to do, questions we still to answer-

But tonight we're both going to enjoy the freedom we've found in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out more prompts at [Carry On Prompts](https://carryonprompts.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Honestly, we're being spoiled by having this out there for people to pick at. I know it's been a little quiet but there's some great ideas that would be amazing to work with. If you're out of ideas or have one of your own you don't know what to do with, go and take part!
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](https://sharkmartini.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Light in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226503) by [Phoxphyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoxphyre/pseuds/Phoxphyre)


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